


those hands are not paintbrushes (and your body is not a canvas)

by abigail2022



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, JJ Needs a Hug, JJ deserves Better, kiara tells him this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail2022/pseuds/abigail2022
Summary: he considered what his dad put him through the normal lifestyle of a teenage boy. well, until she proves him otherwise.or,the one where kiara gives jj a shoulder he so desperately needs to lean on. oneshot.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 120





	those hands are not paintbrushes (and your body is not a canvas)

she always was his home.

home, in the rhetorical sense, was not always something jj could rely on. kiara was aware of this fact. home was something that could come and then go, materialize then disappear. home was the sound of tires squealing, doors slamming, and guns firing. home was sweeping up broken glass, avoiding his troubled past, and taking the brunt of his father’s wrath.

whatever nonchalant display he attempted to portray, he should have known that what was taking place wasn’t right. immoral, unethical, whatever he wanted to call it. something kiara never would be able to understand was why he put up with it, or more importantly, why he still loved his father despite all the shit he put him through. was it because he was the only family he had left?

he had always struggled with abandonment issues, and that intensified the moment his mother strode out the front door. it began to manifest itself whilst he dealt with the struggles of his father disappearing time and time again. it became most apparent the day kiara left for the richer side of life, yet dissipated the moment she returned. the issue amongst the tight-knit group of four needn’t ever be brought up; it went without speaking that he was swimming through rough, unchartered waters.

waters, kiara mused, that no sixteen-year-old boy should ever have to go through alone.

he was a good actor, she could appraise him for that much. his unhealthy coping mechanisms were hidden behind an invisible barrier he wouldn’t dare let down. back and forth, back and forth, his moods would change and shift with every fleeting moment. fishing all day, partying all night, anything that would get him out of that damn house. she knew better than to believe him when he placed the blame on the drugs that were constantly coursing through his system.

she was smarter than he gave her credit for.

so when she knocked on the door of the chateau that night, she already knew who would be on the other side of that door. call it intuition, call it luck; whatever it was, she was right. on the receiving end was a messed up jj, hands shaking and lips trembling. his shirt splattered with blood and his shorts torn at the ends. high? maybe. hurt? definitely.

she immediately enveloped him in a hug, whether by pure reflex or her own bottled grief. the world was cruel and unfair. they both already knew that. but as sobs began to rack his body she realized just how awful this life could be. because for someone so lively and so full of recklessness to have their light extinguished like water to a flame made her heart rip at its seams. she held on tight, squeezed his abdomen, and never wanted to let him go.

he cried and screamed until there was nothing left. there was nothing he could ever do to please his father, and coming to terms to that hurt him more than the bruises ever would. it was more than physical abuse, kiara realized. there was deep phycological trauma left as a result of two neglectful parents who never deserved the gift of raising a child.

he’s sitting on the couch now. eyes brimmed red, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. she reaches a hand out, as if she were beckoning him, and he hesitantly takes it.

kiara leads him to the bathroom, which is a mess. she half-heartedly smiles; john b never was able to clean up after himself. she motions for jj to sit down while she grabs a damp rag and hydrogen peroxide. she kneels down next to him and starts to tend to his injuries.

 _tell me if this hurts,_ she’ll whisper. _don’t worry, i’ve got you,_ she’ll say. the way they so easily fell into routine would make one think they had been doing this for years. in reality, this was the first time she had seen him like this, but she didn’t dare show she was scared. jj was in need reassurance and the love of a friend, and she’d be damned if she couldn’t give that to him when he so desperately desired it the most.

she isn’t able to see the full extent of the damage until he takes off his shirt. it horrifies her; bruises and scars which litter his stomach and ribcages. if it weren’t for his vulnerable blue irises boring into hers, she would have retched at the sight. his father, as it seemed, was the painter and his son, the canvas. those splatters of paint so easily inflicted with agony would serve as a reminder of this night for days to come.

he feels her eyes traveling down every inch of his body. never more in his life had he felt more exposed than he did in that moment. because not a soul, not even his father himself, could see just how much torture was inflicted upon him. after all, his dad only took out his feelings on him with his punches; he never was one to witness the aftermath.

she suddenly grabs a hold of his hand. whether for his reassurance or her own affirmation, she’ll never know. she squeezes it tight and he gives her the faintest of smiles in reply. despite everything, she was left in awe of the person he had become. even when he was on the brink of losing it all, _he_ was trying to reassure _her._ he still felt the unexplainable need to protect her from his world, and that alone caused her heart to skip a beat.

such an irreplaceable soul, he was, caught up in the midst of the most catastrophic of situations.

jj slowly attempts to stand although his stance is unstable. kiara hastily goes up to meet him and wraps her arm around his neck. together they trudge through the house until they end up in the same room that was once their best friend’s.

it goes without speaking that she’s staying with him. she settles him in the bed, gently moving his legs to rest in a comfortable position. she reaches for the nearest blanket she can get her hands on and wraps him in its welcoming embrace.

once she gets him situated, she walks to the other side of the bed and climbs in next to him. he hitches his breath but makes no move to say anything. she welcomes the silence; in that moment, all she could do was get lost in her own thoughts. ever so slowly, he began to stroke her hair. a soft smile graces her lips; she likes this feeling.

she always was his home.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first piece of writing i have ever submitted on ao3. this is a prompt i’ve been dying to write about and i’m so glad i’ve finally gotten to it.
> 
> jj deserves the world. kiara is willing to give it to him. i hope we get some good quality screentime of them in s2, regardless if it’s romantic or platonic.


End file.
